Laura Fail... 32 days later

The other day, someone asked me what I would do if I found out I had a terminal illness? "I'd buy a pack of cigarettes and finally light up again," I blurted out without thinking.

Day 0 60.3 kg

Day 32 57.1 kg

There are many variables and few stable resolutions in my life. Except for one thing, which I've always clung to and still do to this day. A resolution that if I have a child, I will raise them with strictness, adherence to rules, and iron-hard consistency. I will do this for their sake, so that they become a person and not a characterless, pliable, hedonistic nobody. "Nonsense," most people told me, because although the basic idea is good and everyone would want to raise their offspring this way – above a certain social level, of course – as soon as the child is born, all these principles and the Draconian image of strictness will collapse in an instant, and looking at the child, none of this rule-bullshit will remain. Despite this, and disregarding these voices, I felt that it would indeed be so, because if you shape a person out of someone you love the most, you express your love best, because that is the most you can give them. I could say that this is how they can become a happy and full-fledged person...

There's no talk of children yet, at least not that I know of, but here's Laura, with whom I've been working for over a month now, and the program is proceeding under the aforementioned strictness and consistency. Within its framework, Laura received an ultimatum from me regarding smoking. Either she cuts down her daily pack of cigarettes to 5 sticks a day, or I'm done with her and her program. It's important to know about Laura that I've never seen such an enthusiastic woman, fighting so hard for her goals. The determination with which she works out in the gym could be a role model for everyone, which is why I have no doubts that the diet is also followed to the letter, as the results achieved so far already show. Everything is great, everything is in place, if only it weren't for that damn cigarette, which not only fundamentally undermines this program, but also jeopardizes her entire life with bombs that will only explode years from now, but explode they will. Laura does everything I tell her, and takes anything I give her without question, but still, smoking is an absolute taboo for her. Seriously, if she had a gun to her head and a cigarette in her mouth and had to choose between pulling the trigger or lighting up, she'd simply shoot herself in the forehead.

Laura didn't comply with my request of 5 cigarettes a day; she consistently remained above the limit even after the deadline expired. Laura is nobody to me. Just a girl I'm working with, but what my friends told me about raising children, principles, and faltering consistency has already come true. Everything can be explained, an ideology can be created for everything, why this way and why that way, and why it doesn't matter. This kind of explanatory, self-deceptive technique is also applied by people to themselves. We lie to ourselves about a world where all our human weaknesses can fit, and with which we explain, or rather convince ourselves, that it's really good the way it is, and where black is actually white. I know it's much harder to see our mistakes, confront them, and change them than to fabricate a life ideology and lie to ourselves, but eventually, we will have to weigh our lives. This way of thinking is characteristic of the proletarian strata of society, failed life paths, and dead relationships, and incidentally, these pave the way for the self-deceptive mentality of "my friend likes me this way too," among other things.

Laura failed the program because the program is about her either adhering to what I say, or I wish her a pleasant journey for the rest of her life and we part ways. But still... Seeing that kind of desire to strive for a better quality of life, her performance in training, and her attitude towards life as a whole, except for smoking, I can't bring myself to tell her, "Sorry, little lady, close the door behind you on your way out." I didn't say that; instead, I'm making a fool of myself by continuing the program with her, even though I'd rather write a "Laura Sun Goes Down" article, a longer post about psychological addiction, where I would have focused on Laura as a fallen angel who isn't even capable of that much, and who lets an 8-centimeter paper make her life dependent. At least for the few years she can still do this, because let's not be mistaken, with Laura's level of smoking, it's not an exaggeration to say that she has years left.

So, the program continues, and the cigarettes remain. I can't do more for Laura than this; my tools against her have run out. From now on, whatever we achieve, we achieve with cigarettes, meaning 40-60% of the attainable goals. With cigarettes, we will have tangible limits, and once we reach that ceiling, there will be no further development. The psyche and mental strength can be developed almost without limit with a healthy body, but a damaged organ will firmly put up a stop sign and say, "This far and no further..." Laura lost 3 kilos. She wants one more, which was our original goal. We also started shaping, which will also have its limits, due to the cyanides, tar, and 29 other types of toxins circulating in her body for 13 years, thanks to Phillip Morris and the honest owners of British American Tobacco.

I'll quietly mention that with Laura, we achieved 60-90 of the 90-60-90 dream figure, and if she really gets her breasts done as she plans, then the missing 90 will also be there. I could be happy about this, or that Laura ran around the island for the first time in her life with RunT!ilt, or that we are achieving increasingly spectacular changes, and what Laura wanted to see on herself, she sees in the mirror for the first time in years. But I can't be happy. Despite all the positive outcomes of progress and development, I can't be happy because the girl's death sentence is constantly in her bag, and no matter what outstanding results she achieves now, if the future, which we are investing in, simply does not exist for Laura if she doesn't stop smoking.

Laura

Unfortunately, the day has come when I can no longer avoid admitting it: I couldn't cut down on my cigarette intake. I don't want to make excuses, there are just facts. There are serious problems in my life that overwhelm me with such terrible stress that quitting smoking is simply impossible right now. I've hit rock bottom mentally, and several factors play a role in that. I changed jobs, which very quickly turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I don't want to go into too much detail because I might get myself into trouble, but today when I called Miki, the following question came up: would you rather visit me in jail or a mental hospital? It drives me crazy day after day, but not for much longer.

We're working hard to launch my own business, for which only the evenings remain on weekdays, so I sleep 5-6 hours. And of course, you can get stressed about this too. Meanwhile, things aren't going well at home either, because of hunger, little free time, and my wonderful workplace, sometimes I'm a fury. But luckily, it's not a big problem, I caught on in time. I don't want to talk about the other things. So I'm having shitty days, really shitty ones. So yes, I messed this up, but I'm not ashamed to admit it and I won't lie to anyone. I ran the Island circuit in 30 minutes – though I'm very grateful to Bence for being there with me – I'm sticking to the diet, and I'm doing the workouts.

However he decides regarding me: 1. I completely understand if he doesn't work with me anymore 2. I will continue the program anyway.

Meanwhile, yesterday I shrieked with joy when my last smaller pair of jeans slipped off me, even though I had tightened my belt. It's really true that when you think it would be nice to pig out, you stand in front of the mirror, pull up your top/pull down your pants, and with a heavy heart, you give it up for the results. Because it's worth it, it really is. With all the sacrifices, effort, and "dying." Because I've become more confident and proudly take clothes one or two sizes smaller from the shelf.

I like my stomach more and more, and now that I see the results, I even feel like doing abs exercises. Before, I hated it, nothing showed under the little cushion, and I felt it was completely useless. The other day, my friend and I went to buy a swimsuit because the old one didn't fit anymore. So I was standing in the fitting room under the awful neon light, which beautifully emphasizes every single flaw you have (I don't even understand why they have this in a clothing store), and I realized that the end was still far away. But I also noticed that I was trying on an S-sized bottom and it wasn't cutting into my rolls.

Overall, it's a difficult and tough test, but I will be damn proud of myself if I manage to do it. I feel that this will give me so much self-confidence that there will be no more "oh, it won't work anyway." Somehow, it really transforms a person. Moreover, my current crazy nervous state is good for my gym workouts.